Daring
by Cerae56
Summary: In this collection, I will try to write a oneshot for each of the 1000 prompts provided in berryandlisa's "If You Dare" Challenge. In order. Expect many different characters, pairings, genres, etc. The title of each story will be the prompt it corresponds to.
1. Glaciers

**A.N. Welcome to** _ **Daring**_ **! I hope you enjoy it (or at least, some of it, as there will be a lot of stories to pick from! I can't necessarily promise regular updates all of the time; it's a long project after all. The point is just to make me write more- 1000 prompts means I can no longer say I'm out of ideas!  
** **This scene takes place during** _ **Prisoner of Azkaban**_ **, immediately after Remus leaves Hogwarts. Not wolfstar, but this collection will probably include wolfstar in the future.  
** **Geographical/scientific info from Wikipedia.**

Remus couldn't say he was surprised to find Sirius at his house once he left Hogwarts, but he couldn't be happy about it either. He walked into his room and found his old friend asleep in his bed; through the window, he could see Buckbeak resting in the garden.

"Wake up," he said hesitantly, touching Sirius's shoulder. It's not safe here," he added at Sirius sat up, yawning.

"I know- I shouldn't have come. But I won't stay. Just going to get some things together before I go." He smiled, but it only made Remus sadder to see the ghost of the genuine humor that was once there. "I swear, I only meant to sit down for a second- guess everything just caught up with me."

Remus managed to return the smile. "It's nice, actually, to see someone who looks as bad as I do today."

"You _do_ look pretty bad- guess that was the roughest night you've had in awhile."

"I daresay everyone involved would say the same."

"Harry's alright then? And his friends?"

"Seemed to be- he came to say goodbye, you know. Or to talk me into staying, really. Anyway, they've still got a few days left in the term."

Sirius stretched, placated, before commenting. "Hope they enjoy them. Harry didn't seem too keen on going back to live with his relatives…"

Remus could only nod. The truth was, he would be embarrassed to admit how little he truly knew about Harry after a year to Sirius, who he knew wanted desperately to be a part of the boy's life. He was embarrassed even to admit it to himself, but there was so much guilt and worry about never checking on him for twelve years, concern over what Snape and the other teachers might say if there was obvious favoritism, and the uncertainty that he, as a werewolf, could ever be involved in his life, if Harry would even want that.

Still, he was no fool. He knew that Harry had stayed through the winter holidays, that he never mentioned his family, and if someone else ever did, his face became tight and closed and his best friends looked at him worriedly. He didn't know much in the way of specifics, but growing up with Sirius was enough to give him the general picture.

He sighed and pulled a bag out of the closet for Sirius, throwing in some old clothes for him as well.

"I don't need too much. I've managed to get some money- same way I got the Firebolt, used my account number but made the withdrawal in your name. Hope that's ok."

"Sure, they never check anyway."

"And I left the account number here-" he indicated a scrap of paper on the bedside table- "if you need it."

"You know I won't take your money, Sirius."

He shrugged. "Had to try. Thought you might make an exception as I got you fired."

"Technically I resigned," Remus said kindly, now searching the long abandoned-kitchen for food to share. "And either way it's not your fault." He added a few cans of soup to Sirius's bag and boiled some water for the lone box of pasta he found.

"I really shouldn't put you out," Sirius worried. "You're harboring a fugitive, you know."

Remus laughed genuinely for the first time that day. "Sirius Black, are you trying to talk me out of breaking rules? I never thought I would see the day."

Sirius smiled and sat down at the table; Remus made coffee.

"Will you at least tell me where you're going? I imagine it'll be difficult to stay in touch once you're on the run again."

"Yes- I think it's time I leave the country," Sirius confessed. "Harry's safe from Peter for now, I've got no excuse to hang around so close to the Ministry anymore. Too risky, though I'm sure you'll make fun of my saying that, too."

"No, you're right, that's the safest way. Any ideas where you'd like to hide out?"

"Not really- I think I might head south."

"It's almost summer- the farther down you go, the hotter it will be," Remus warned.

"Well, I don't exactly plan to head straight to the equator, but the weather's sort of the point. I've missed the sun."

"That's fair," Remus said, sipping his drink. Sirius's mention of the equator made him think of a book he read recently, one that mentioned Mount Kilimanjaro, a mere 330 kilometers from the equator, less than a finger width on a map. It was the tallest mountain in Africa- so tall, there were glaciers on its highest peaks.

He knew he should be making up for lost time with Sirius, talking and laughing like they were teenagers again, but it was a quiet and somber meal. They could no longer find simple joys in the face of darkness as easily as they could in their youth, not after all they'd been through. Remus knew that, nice weather or not, Sirius didn't want to set off alone away from Harry, who was also heading for cold seclusion with his relatives. Their goodbyes came all too fast, and then Sirius and Buckbeak were gone, leaving Remus alone again for the foreseeable future.

He went to bed, exhaustion reaching down to his bones. His only comfort as he fell asleep was the lingering thought of glaciers on the equator, stubborn survivors in an unwelcoming environment.

 **A.N. Reviews are always welcome, of course!  
** **Feel free to leave comments/concerns about the format as well- For example, I'm open to listing pairings in the AN of each chapter if that's something you're interested in, so you could skip stories that center around ships you don't like. Let me know!  
** **Also, I'll note right now that I'm American, so while I'll try my best to make the characters sound like themselves in general, I can't promise the slang etc. will be correct 100% of the time!**


	2. Vague Misery

Arthur Weasley didn't think he could bear to do any job other than his own. He was not someone who flourished in a professional environment or felt validated by staring crisis in the face. He was a family man with a sense of humor, and he needed a job like his, which mostly dealt in high-jinx and interactions with Muggle things that, to him, were foreign and interesting.

And even that sometimes was too much.

When he was simply studying Muggle technology to keep the Ministry informed, he loved his job. There were published authors who did not take the joy in their writing that Arthur Weasley did when asked for a report about Muggle culture.

And Muggle-baiting, well, he could handle that. Mostly. He forced himself to create distance when he could, to try and think of the incidents like the pranks that he secretly enjoyed Fred and George playing on everyone. But the truth of the matter was always there. It was in every case that landed on his desk, no matter how small. No matter how he framed it, no matter what the Ministry called it, no matter what was written on the office door, Arthur was in charge of hate crimes. Day in and day out. He watched how wizards, some his own colleagues, treated muggles for no reason other than them not having magic. He watched the offenders go free most of the time, and he could never apologize to the muggles, because if they'd caught on to magic, their memories would be wiped anyway.

His gigantic battle from the Ministry's smallest office.

So Arthur counted on the wins. Because sometimes the offender _was_ indicted. And sometimes a tragedy in either community- magical or muggle- would prompt a month with a lot fewer incidents, a quiet respect. And very occasionally, if a wizard caught a muggle-baiter in the act, he or she would come to the muggle's defence. In terms of paperwork, this was a nightmare as it usually meant more memories to erase, but Arthur never slept better than he did on those nights.

Yes, there was a vague misery about being in charge of Misuse of Muggle Artifacts in a world that still for the most part quietly hated muggles. But Arthur had family, and friends, and enough experience to see the good in people. For him, that was enough.


	3. Moonstruck

Generally, the Malfoys stayed out of the southern half of Wiltshire. Their manor was in the northern part, where the money was, and they saw no reason to leave town and mingle with middle or even (the horror) _lower_ class muggles.

Still, on a cold November day when Draco was six, it proved unavoidable. An armchair that had once belonged to Morgana herself had somehow found its way into a muggle antique shop in good condition and reasonably priced, seeing as no one in the shop knew its true value. How it fell into non-magic hands was anyone's guess, but one had to suspect Arthur Weasley.

Narcissa wanted to fetch it as soon as possible, but it was the nanny's day off, so she decided to take Draco with her and, in spite of hating Side-Along Apparition, he was rather excited to get out of the house.

"Stay close to Mummy," she murmured as they entered the shop. Fortunately, the chair was still there and Narcissa wasted no time in snapping it up. They weren't in the store twenty minutes.

"Thank Merlin it was so easy," Narcissa said. "Come on now, darling- let's find a place to disapparate. It's almost time for your nap."

She started looking for a quiet alley, but Draco suddenly pulled his hand out of hers. "No! I hate apparating! And I don't _want_ to go home- home is _boring_!"

"Draco-"

But before she could even reprimand him, he had taken off running into the crowd. He heard his mother calling after him, but he was elated at this new freedom. So rarely was he taken out to the shops- generally the house elves took care of most of their necessities, and Knockturn Alley was so frightening he'd never dream of breaking away from his parents. He ran until he was out of breath, then he stopped, looked around at the world through independent eyes for the first time.

That's when the terror sank in.

He hadn't paid attention to where he was going- there was a fork in the road behind him, and he wasn't even sure which side he'd come from. He could never retrace his steps, and he couldn't hear his mother's voice anymore.

"M-mum?" he called, clinging to the hope that she had followed him. "MUM? MUMMY?"

He was dangerously close to tears when a man crouched down beside him. "Hi there, mate. Did you lose your mum?" He asked in a cheerful voice, but with genuine concern all over his face.

Draco nodded silently, knowing he wasn't supposed to talk to this man who, in jeans, a T-shirt and a leather jacket, was quite obviously a muggle, but too scared to turn away a friendly face.

"Well, that's alright. Happens to the best of us- any idea where she might be? Where was she when you last saw her?"

"We were at an ant- an antie… we were at a shop full of old furniture."

"Antiques?" The man asked, and at Draco's nod said, "I think I know the place you mean- a few streets away, right?"

Draco nodded again.

"She probably went back in looking for you- I'll give them a call before I phone the police. Either way, you'll be back with her by sundown, I'm sure of it. In the meantime, we should get you out of the cold- you'll be safe in here."

Draco wasn't allowed to go into strangers' houses alone even if the strangers were purebloods, but then again, the man wasn't pointing to a house. Instead, he was guiding him towards a small restaurant. It was well-lit, there were plenty of people inside- and it _was_ pretty cold out.

The man led him to an empty table and told him to sit down. Draco had never been anywhere like that before- whenever he went out to eat with his family, they told a man in a suit who they were and were led somewhere nice, usually near a window. He looked around. No one was dressed fancy here, either, and there were all sorts of different groups. The restaurants his dad took him were always filled exclusively with dignified families and men conducting business. Here, there were families too, but also some people alone, or young people in groups of twos or threes, talking and laughing. Happy. He looked around more. Pictures hung everywhere- pictures of food with prices on them, pictures of big groups of people, pictures that looked like people drew them. He was learning to read, and could see the word 'moon' written everywhere, but couldn't riddle out the rest of the phrase.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"The Moonstruck Cafe. I work here- my name's Jason. Mind telling me yours?"

"Draco," he said. He suddenly felt very shy, more so than he'd ever felt before. He was surrounded by strangers, muggle strangers, in a place unlike anywhere he'd ever been. The confidence that came so easily around the children of other pureblood families was gone.

"Draco- that's an interesting name. I like it! You stay here for a minute. I'm going to phone the shop and see if they know where your mum is."

He watched Jason walk away, over to a counter where he spoke to a girl with a bouncy brown ponytail for a moment before disappearing behind a door. The girl followed him but came back out almost immediately carrying a mug, which she brought to the table where Draco was sitting.

"Hi there, sweetie. Draco, right? I'm Jenny. Would you like some hot chocolate?"

Draco was unsure what to do- of course, he wasn't supposed to interact with or trust muggles, but that ship had sailed. Besides, his parents had also taught him to always do the polite thing, that the most important thing in any situation was to appear proper. So he accepted the mug, whispering "Thank you, miss."

She smiled. "No problem, hun. Do you want anything to eat? We have grilled cheese or chicken fingers…"

"No thank you ma'am."

"Ok. Enjoy the cocoa!" And as she walked back to the counter, he even dared to have a sip. It was delicious.

Jason was walking back toward him, now wearing an apron. "Good news- your mother was back in the shop looking for you when I called. She's on her-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Narcissa burst into the cafe, looking frantic. "Draco!"

Draco abandoned his cocoa and his table and ran into her arms; he had never been so happy to see her in his life. "I'm sorry, Mummy," he whispered as she held him.

"Thank God you're safe- you gave me such a fright. What were you thinking, running off, especially with so many muggles around?" She finally released him, standing up and looking around the room. She locked eyes with Jason, but she either was too proud to thank him or simply didn't know how, because she led her son away without another word.

And eventually, Draco forgot what happened. He forgot about Jason and went back to loathing muggles. But years later, living in the manor he'd inherited, the armchair that had stood in the corner of the parlor since his childhood began to break down with age. When he moved it, he found something he couldn't quite explain: a bit of parchment buried deep in the folds of fabric on the chair's underside: a child's drawing of a small restaurant, with a big sign on top reading THE MOONSTRUCK CAFE.


	4. Reality Bites

**A/N: Takes place during OOtP, when the Weasleys and Harry are waiting for news of Mr. Weasley after Nagini's attack. Ron's POV, but extremely OOC in terms of voice. I kind of hate this chapter but I am suppressing my urge to start over because the entire point of this challenge is to write more, and I let this slow me down for too long.  
** **Fair warning- a little depressing.**

I watch Fred snap at Sirius without any real emotion. I know I should apologize on his behalf, but I don't have the capacity to observe manners, and besides, even in my numb state, I feel for Fred. For him, it's becoming real.

The four of us were so young when Harry first defeated Voldemort; we certainly don't remember the first war and the losses of Uncles Fabian and Gideon. We knew they were Mom's brothers, that she got terribly sad whenever she talked about them, and eventually, we came to understand what it means, to 'have dead brothers.' But somehow, the older we got, the more distant it seemed. The more we comprehended death as never seeing a person again, the more impossible it seemed that it could happen to someone in the family. Even on the worst days between us, if I tried to imagine one of my brothers dying, my mind shut the idea down right away because it was too scary.

And we had a good run for most of our lives- no dead relatives closer than a great-great-aunt or a third cousin once removed- no one that we'd ever even met. Hell, even Errol held on. The four of us lived in happy oblivion.

And when I met Harry, it didn't go away. Sure, it was sad to see how death had marked his life, but I was still only looking at tragedy through a peephole.

Funnily enough, the reason that I feel more aware of death has nothing to do with Cedric, either. It was actually when Harry showed up at Grimmauld Place in August that I came to terms with it. Seems silly, but when he walked into the room unannounced…

He was only gone for four weeks. I didn't think anyone could change so much that quickly, but he was thinner than ever before; I could see bones jutting out at his elbows and shoulders. He's only getting worse as the year goes on- it looks like his collarbones are trying to jump out of his body, like someone had gouged out half of the flesh that belonged under his cheekbones. And the circles under his eyes get darker every day.

And I realized, as Harry was yelling at us that day in August, that he was going to die. And so was Hermione. And my parents. And Ginny and all of my brothers. Even if we survived Voldemort, the end would come one way or another, and for Harry especially it seemed to loom ever closer.

So perhaps tonight was just the beginning of the inevitable.


	5. That Is Enough

**A/N: Sorry that it's been forever since I updated. I kind of hate how ch4 came out so I didn't want to post it alone, but I had the opposite problem with this prompt: one idea I started writing got so long that I made it its own oneshot, "Fence-Mending," and another I loved so much that I'm planning on developing it into a multi-chap at some point in the future.. Which is exactly why I love prompts so much! But I'm back with with, and will hopefully update more regularly from now on.**

People had told Hermione since she was eleven years old that she would marry one of her two best friends one day. And while many people talked about her and Harry, the people who knew them best always joked about her and Ron. And they were right in the end, of course.

But it wasn't right away. When they had faced McGonagall's chess board in first year, for example. She was struck by his incredible bravery, but she loved him only as a friend. She had felt terrible about Ron's leg in third year, but it was the worry you felt for your best friend.

No, Hermione first fell for Ron in fourth year, when he was being a complete jealous arse about Harry being picked as a champion.

"Harry's not coming, then?" she'd asked Ron when he sat down at the table alone the morning after the champions had been selected.

"Dunno. Still sleeping when I left," Ron had said moodily, poking at his eggs. "'Spect he'll be down soon. Get some of the attention."

Hermione had stared at him. "He didn't ask for all this, Ron."

"Oh no? So he entered for what- the money?"

"He didn't, Ron, and I think you know that."

"I don't know what to think, Hermione!"

"Why don't you think about how he must be feeling and how much he needs your support!"

"Harry doesn't need anything from me!"

"That's not true."

"Yeah, well... " Unsurprisingly, he hadn't had any rational arguments.

"Ron, you're acting unbelievably stupid. This is a dangerous tournament- Harry could get hurt. Or worse. Doesn't that bother you?! Aren't you going to try to help him?!"

Ron had simply ignored her, eyes glued to his plate.

"Fine, then. I'm going to find Harry," she'd huffed, getting up and starting to leave.

"Wait!"

Hermione had turned back. "What now?"

Ron had rolled his eyes and started piling toast into a napkin. "Look… just take this with you, alright?"

She was confused for a second- then understood. "Yeah. Yeah ok… I'll see you later, then?"

"Bye."

She'd never told Harry that it was Ron's idea to bring him toast- by then, she'd decided it was best to let them fight it out for themselves. Ron probably forgot about it altogether after a week.

But in that tiny moment when Ron had showed his hand, Hermione had felt the world shift. Just a little, of course- but it was enough.


End file.
